Through a Silver Mist
by Cassiopia
Summary: Ron and Harry may just have gotten another chance to retreave the thing they love most from the place of no return: Hermione. A visit to the past as Harry and Ron enter the afterlife and meet several deceased friends. Chap 3 changed!
1. A Mistake in the Flu Network

THROUGH A SILVER MIST  
  
DISCLAIMER: all story : the characters and places are mostly JK Rowlings but since I am not JK Rowling I don't get paid for them! So please don't sue me (  
  
WARNING: STORY CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR OOTP!!!!!  
  
ONE/A MISTAKE IN THE FLU NETWORK  
  
Harry Potter stared out the window, watching the traffic pass on the London streets below. It was his birthday today, but no one was coming. No one would call and tell him they were happy for him, or send him a cake with chocolate frosting and little candy letters on top. He probably wouldn't even get a paper clip from the Dursleys- they'd stopped sending him gifts ages ago.  
  
But what Harry missed most, today in particular, were the letters Ron and Hermione would send him as a kid. The encouraging notes to "tough it out" at the Dursleys' and promises to see him at the burrow always lifted his spirits. It was just the thing he needed on his birthday back in those days.  
  
These days too, if you were going to be perfectly honest. It had been nine years since Ron and Hermione had sent him notes on his birthday, though at no mistake on their part. It was entirely Harry's fault that he didn't receive letters anymore, and he knew that perfectly well, however much it pained him to have that thought in mind. When he'd walked out on them years ago, he'd given them all the reason in the world not to speak to him again. Even encouraged it. When Ron had sent letters right after he left, Harry had just thrown them out unopened, or sent them back with Ron's now very fat owl, Pig. Eventually, they'd stopped coming.  
  
Sighing deeply, Harry pulled back from the rain-streaked, dark window and headed into his brightly-lit kitchen. Didn't it just figure that it was raining on his birthday. It seemed to be mocking him, reminding him that he was alone today.  
  
Taking a pan from where it hung on the wall and setting it on a clean, white countertop, Harry took two eggs from the refrigerator. He ate in so often, so as not to be recognized by any witches or wizards disguised as Muggles, that it shouldn't have seemed sad that he was alone tonight. But it did.  
  
Cracking the eggs and spreading them around in the pan, Harry went to find some cheese to add to his omelet. Digging around in the fridge, he came up with a small block of French cheese. There wasn't nearly enough to make a good omelet.  
  
Nearly throwing the cheese back with frustration, Harry put it away and closed the door. Turning the heat off on the stove, he picked up the pan and poured the now semi-sticky eggs down the sink. He put the pan in next, then went back to his living room.  
  
Well, if he couldn't have his omelet, he was definitely going to have a nice fire to sit in front of. He picked up the matches and struck them against the box, then lit the logs that were in his fireplace.  
  
The thing he liked most about his new flat was that it had a fireplace in the living area. He'd missed having one, after growing accustomed to sitting in front of the one that blazed in the Gryffindor common room nightly.  
  
Finally, the flames picked up a bit, and Harry settled back onto the couch, staring into the orange-yellow fire. A small, slightly funny memory crossed his mind as he thought of divination lessons in sixth year, when Professor Trelawny had taught them to scry by fire. Of course, she'd wasted no time telling him that she saw his death in the near future, but here was, ten years later, alive and kicking.  
  
Well, maybe not kicking, but he was alive.  
  
A soft hooting startled Harry, and he realized that Hedwig had flown in from where she'd been sleeping on her perch and settled on the nearby floor lamp.  
  
"Hullo, Hedwig," Harry greeted her softly. She hooted again and flew over to his outstretched arm, flapping a bit to keep her balance.  
  
"Nice birthday, huh?" Hedwig nipped his finger in sympathy.  
  
"Oh, well," Harry said, stroking Hedwig's snow-white feathers absently. "There's always next year."  
  
He snorted a small laugh as he said it, though. He knew he'd be in this very same spot next year, or if not here, then he'd be alone somewhere else.  
  
Hedwig hooted again and took off from his arm, flying to the bedroom, indicating that she wanted to go out. Harry stood slowly to let her out the back window, where no one would see her fly away through the rooftops.  
  
Coming back into the living room, he sat in front of the fire again. It seemed that even Hedwig was going to be gone for his birthday.  
  
Watching the flames, Harry recalled a time, maybe five years ago, when he'd been living in Lyon, France, and Hedwig had brought back a dead mouse for a birthday present. She hadn't done that since she was a young owl, and Harry was sure she'd meant it as a joke to brighten up his day. She'd nipped his finger good-naturedly when he'd laughed at her. Owls really didn't get enough credit, Harry thought. They're smarter than people think.  
  
Harry frowned slightly as a small bit of soot fell from the chimney, dropping onto the flames and putting a few out. A moment later, though, the fire was blazing again, and Harry relaxed again.  
  
As he sat on the couch, Harry wondered where Ron was right now, and what he was doing. Hopefully he was well, wherever his best friend was. And there was no need to worry about Hermione. Harry's throat tightened a bit at the thought of his lost friend. It was all his fault she'd been killed, just before the last duel with Voldemort. She'd never even lived to see him be defeated, though it was rather because of her that Harry had been able to kill the dark lord.  
  
Harry's throat tightened more. The pain of loosing a friend never goes away completely. And when you're sad and lonely already, as Harry was, it just seems worse.  
  
The flames before Harry jumped higher with the rush of wind, and Harry started. When the flames didn't calm down again, Harry thought about running to get some water. But before he could move, the flames became tinted a greenish color. With another burst of wind, they went out. But the fireplace wasn't empty.  
  
"R-Ron?" Harry said in disbelief as a red-haired man stood coughing and spitting ash out of his mouth. At the sound of Harry's voice, the man looked up.  
  
"Harry?" The man looked at Harry first with suspicion, then wonder, then, cracking a huge grin, the man shouted "HARRY!"  
  
In a matter of seconds the two were hugging, however un-manly of them it may have seemed. There's nothing like being reunited with your childhood best friend.  
  
"I don't believe it! Harry, what are you doing here?" Ron said, stepping back and smiling at his friend. Harry grinned.  
  
"I should ask you the same thing."  
  
"I was trying to get to Harold Petorny's for a business trip, but it's been so long since I used the flu, I must not have spoken clearly enough."  
  
"That's odd," Harry commented. "Don't I have to be connected to the network? I'm sure I'm not."  
  
"Oh well, who cares? Harry this is unbelievable! Wait until Ginny and the family hears you're back, they'll be ecstatic!"  
  
Harry's smile faded a bit, and Ron didn't miss it. His grin imitated Harry's, and he narrowed his eyes. The sudden excitement was extinguished quickly.  
  
"You ARE going to come back, aren't you?" They stared at each other in silence for a few minutes.  
  
"I can't, Ron," Harry said after a moment. "I can't go back to that way of life. It's too painful, and I'm too dangerous-"  
  
"Oy, Harry, come off it!" Ron said, his voiced raised a bit. "I don't care what Dumbledore says anymore, I'm not letting you live your life as a hermit in some Muggle town. Harry you HAVE to come back."  
  
"Hang on a sec, what's Dumbledore got to do with it?"  
  
Ron's eyes flared, and he said, "Dumbledore told me I shouldn't go after you when you left. Said you needed time to yourself, time to realize where you had to be. But it doesn't look as if you've realized it, so here, I'll help you. You belong in the wizarding world, Harry. What would your parents think if they knew the hero who'd outsmarted You-Know-Who eight times, and finally caused his death, was living alone in London?"  
  
"I'm not alone," Harry put in feebly. "I have Hedwig."  
  
Ron snorted. "That's good company all right. Harry, I'm not leaving this flat without you, you ARE coming back."  
  
Harry stood still a moment. Hadn't he just been thinking, no less than ten minutes ago, how much he'd missed hearing from Ron? And how many times had he wished he could just apparate somewhere instead of taking the subway, or put a simple charm on the broom to make housework go faster? He sighed.  
  
"Please, Harry." Ron gazed at his best friend, silently pleading to God, Allah, whoever was listening, that he come back.  
  
Harry noted the look of pain in Ron's eyes, as though it was hurting him to think of letting his best friend go again. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad just to go back to the Burrow, at least, and see the Weasleys. Yes, that's what he'd do. He'd have a nice birthday dinner, and when they all fell asleep that night he'd make his escape.  
  
Sighing, Harry nodded. Ron broke into a huge grin.  
  
"Great, come on then! We'll use the flu to get to the Burrow! God, wait until Ginny sees you again, and what'll mum do?"  
  
Still chattering, Ron pulled Harry towards the fireplace and took a small pouch from his robe pocket. Throwing a bit of what looked like dust into the fire, he said, "You first."  
  
Harry nervously approached the fireplace- it'd been so long- yet he remembered all of the important instructions that he'd ignored years ago, when he ended up somewhere in Knockturn Alley. Back before he knew Sirius. Harry's heart gave a twinge at the memory of his godfather; he quickly focused his mind. He spoke quite clearly, "The Burrow."  
  
Suddenly the flames shot up around Harry, engulfing him in green light, and he was whisked away through the flu network. Passing grate after grate, Harry grinned to himself. As much as he hated to admit it, he was enjoying the ride. The subway was nothing compared to this.  
  
Reaching the Weasley's, he stepped dizzily out of the fireplace and shook the soot from his hair, though it was invisible in the black mess. Taking his glasses off, he very ineffectively wiped them on his sooty shirt.  
  
"Arthur, is that you?" Molly Weasley's voice called out from the kitchen. Footsteps signaled to Harry that she was coming towards him, though he made no move to leave. Instead, a broad grin broke out across his face.  
  
"I was just saying to Ginny that you should be getting home about now, she's been waiting fo-"  
  
Mrs. Weasley had reached the living room area and stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth hanging open and a dish towel hanging limply from her clutched fist.  
  
"Hello, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, grinning even wider. It was like seeing his own mother again, maybe better.  
  
Mrs. Weasley stared another second, then let out a loud shriek. Hurrying to Harry, she wrapped him up in a hug and repeatedly kissed his face. Tears streamed down her own cheeks as she stumbled over her words, "Harry, Harry, you're back, where on Earth did you come from? Welcome home Harry, oh you must be awful after that terrible flu trip, let me get you a towel-" she laughed and handed him the one she was holding.  
  
"Mum?" Ginny's voice called from the kitchen, concerned. "Are you all right?"  
  
"Ginny! Ginny come quick!" Molly called to her daughter. "You won't believe who's here! It's Harry!"  
  
"Harry?" Ginny's voice sounded disbelieving. The sound of shuffling indicated she was coming into the room as she mumbled, "Good joke, Mum, I think you're cracking u-"  
  
She stopped dead in the doorway as Harry grinned at her, her eyes wide.  
  
"H-harry?" Ginny stared.  
  
"Hey, Ginny," Harry responded, carefully untangling himself from Mrs. Weasley's clutches and making his way over to the rather rounded Ginny. It took Harry a minute to realize-  
  
"Ginny, you're pregnant!" Ginny nodded slowly, as though still not believing Harry could possibly be standing just in front of her.  
  
From behind came the sound of Ron entering through the chimney, a broad smile on his face.  
  
"Ah, I'm glad you've seen everyone again. Well, everyone who's here. Dad should be home soon for dinner."  
  
"Supper!" Mrs. Weasley screamed, suddenly remembering the food frying on the stove. She ran back into the kitchen, but not before saying, "Welcome back, Harry."  
  
"Thanks," Harry responded. Ron looked from Ginny to Harry and back before saying, "You know, Ginny, you're married. You can't look at him like that."  
  
The Ginny Harry had first met would have turned bright red and run off, but times had changed, and so had Ginny. She rounded on her brother, saying, "Ronald Weasley, I'm not looking at Harry in any sort of way except that I'm glad that he's back. Now you march your stupid arse into the kitchen and wash up for dinner, Mum and I made dumplings tonight."  
  
Ron held up his hands and walked towards the kitchen, Harry following behind.  
  
"More like mum every day," Ron muttered.  
  
"I heard that!" came Ginny's voice from behind them. Harry laughed.  
  
"Wash up and we'll eat, we can't wait around for your father these days," Mrs. Weasley said, summoning a stack of dishes with her wand and directing them towards the table.  
  
As Ron and Harry went to wash their hands like obedient school boys, Ron said, "Later you'll have to see me and Cecilia's flat, it's a bit girly, but the den's nice enough. I've managed to put enough quidditch posters up to cover the horrid flowered wallpaper."  
  
Harry smiled, then asked, "Cecilia?"  
  
"Ah, my girlfriend," Ron said. "Met her at the ministry when I started working for dad."  
  
Harry was silent a moment, processing this information. Years ago he would have sworn that Ron and Hermione would be married someday, but after Hermione went-  
  
"You're thinking about Hermione, aren't you?" Ron said. It wasn't really a question, more of a statement. He continued, "Because I decided years back that with you and Hermione gone I may as well move on with my life. And Cecilia is a great girl, I think I might propose to her."  
  
"Please," Ginny said, joining the boys to wash her own hands. She looked at Harry, "He's been saying that for years. And they STILL aren't engaged."  
  
"How come?"  
  
"Just haven't had the right opportunity," Ron said, then turning oddly silent and very red, he dried his hands and went to the table.  
  
Ginny moved closer to Harry and said under her breath, "He still loves Hermione. He denies it, but I used to hear him at night, for years until he moved out of the burrow. He had dreams about her, where he tried to save her but she never lived. It broke my heart."  
  
Harry studied Ginny carefully, then sighed.  
  
"I miss her," Harry said. Ginny gave him a sad smile.  
  
"And we missed YOU, Harry. Then again, you came back. And we're all glad you did."  
  
Harry smiled and left Ginny at the sink, sitting next to Ron at the familiar kitchen table and eagerly awaiting dinner, suddenly very, very hungry. He couldn't help but remember his attempt at an omelet a half an hour ago. How weird that 30 minutes in the past he'd had no idea Ron would show up in his living room.  
  
The only thing that was missing from this was Hermione. His memories of Ron had always included Hermione. After all, in seventh year she and Ron were quite the popular couple, though neither would admit they were dating. Casual get-togethers was what Hermione called the dinners they had together. Harry shook his head sadly.  
  
"What?" Ron asked, eyeing his best friend suspiciously. "You aren't going to run out on us again, are you?"  
  
Harry looked at his friend and chose not to answer the question, for just thinking of Hermione made him remember why he'd left in the first place. Why he couldn't stay here.  
  
"If you think you're leaving again, you're gravely mistaken," Mrs. Weasley only half-joked, bringing supper to the table. "You belong here."  
  
Harry only wished he could be as sure of that as she was.  
  
****************  
  
Thousands of miles away, Albus Dumbledore looked up as an owl swooped through an open window.  
  
"Ah, Druscela," Dumbledore said, petting the owl as it landed on it's perch. "Have you got word from the ministry?"  
  
The owl hooted and held out a foot proudly, a note wrapped around it.  
  
"Thank you," Dumbledore said, patting the bird's head a few times and unrolling the note.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore-  
  
"I've just heard from the Department of Mysteries and they've just finished the Audelas I was telling you about. I was wondering if you'd have any use for one, as only select wizards are being invited to test it out. Your official invitation will be sent in a few days, but I thought perhaps you'd like to know ahead of time.  
  
"-Tonks."  
  
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows as he read this, surprised that the Audelas were ready so soon but in no way displeased. In fact-  
  
"Professor?" Minerva McGonagall's voice came from the doorway, and Dumbledore called her in.  
  
"I've just received a very curious owl from Ms Ginny Weasley."  
  
"Ah, I was thinking one of us might," Dumbledore looked pleased. "Though I do believe she goes by Mrs. Thomas these days."  
  
"In any case," McGonagall said, impatient to tell him the news she'd just heard, "She claims that just an hour ago Harry Potter returned to the magical world. Do you think it's true?"  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "I know it is."  
  
McGonagall looked baffled.  
  
"It happens to be a certain Mr. Potter's birthday today," Dumbledore explained. "I thought he'd like some company, so I arranged for Ron to visit a Mr. Harold Petorny via the flu."  
  
"I don't see what that has to do with-"  
  
Dumbledore continued on as though McGonagall hadn't spoken, "I also had Harry's fireplace attached to the flu network under Mr. Petorny's name."  
  
"Ah, I see," McGonagall said. "Do you suppose he will stay with us this time around?"  
  
"We can only hope, Minerva," Dumbledore said, glancing again at the letter from Tonks. He had a feeling Harry would be sticking around a long while, just as soon as he called him and Ron Weasley in for a little conference about a certain invention called an Audela.  
  
"McGonagall, I don't suppose I could borrow your owl? Mine's just left, and I have a letter I'd like to be received tonight."  
  
***********************  
  
A/N: So there's chapter one! Here's a little overview of what happens in this short lil' fic: Harry and Ron attempt to retreave Hermione from beyond the silver mist, explained next chapter. Along the way they meet several deceased friends (including Maggie, for anyone who read The Girl with the Emerald Eyes or Emeralds and Diamonds) and Harry begins to rethink his relationship with Hermione, wondering what he'll do if he ever does see her again. But R/Hermione fans don't despair, things may just work out-  
  
I hope you like it! Please review either way!  
  
Luv, Cassi 


	2. Beyond the Veil

THROUGH A SILVER MIST  
  
WARNING: ORDER OF THE PHOENIX SPOILERS!!!!  
  
CHAPTER TWO- BEYOND THE VEIL  
  
It was late. Very, very late. Harry sat on the couch in the Wealseys' living room, surrounded by several people who'd arrived via Flu and through apparation over the course of the past four hours.  
  
On his left was Ron, who beamed from ear to ear as he sat beside his girlfriend, a very blond witch about their age whose personality reminded Harry drastically of Hermione. To Cecilia's left Ginny was leaning comfortably in a chair, her husband Dean at her side. Across the room on another couch were Fred and George, looking just as mischievous as always but now sporting goatees. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were squeezed next to the twins.  
  
They'd had a pleasant night, Harry had to admit. It had suddenly occurred to Ron, about midway through dinner, that it was Harry's birthday. An impromptu celebration had been arranged shortly thereafter, hence, the gathering in the living area. The twins had been so happy to see Harry again that they gave him a free sample of just about everything in their joke shop as a present.  
  
Harry had enjoyed the many happy reminisces about Hogwarts; the Quidditch team, the ball in fourth year, when Fred and George had made their grand exit in fifth year, to name a few. But the night was growing old, and Harry felt his head pounding.  
  
At the next break in conversation, Harry yawned for effect and said, "Well, it's been fun everyone, but we really should get to bed. Most of you've got work in the morning."  
  
The others looked dejected but knew Harry had a point, so they all slowly began to stand from their seats. Ron whispered with Ginny a few moments as he and Dean helped her up, and she nodded once just before Ron turned to his mother.  
  
"Mum, I think I'll stay around here tonight. I'm going to take tomorrow off and catch up with Harry."  
  
"Of course," Mrs. Weasley said. "And Cecilia, will you be staying?"  
  
"Oh, no thank you Mrs. Weasley," she said politely. "I've got to get to sleep if I want to finish up my paperwork tomorrow."  
  
"Of course, dear, of course," Mrs. Weasley patted her on the arm. "Well, off to bed then."  
  
With a chorus of good-byes and see-you-laters, the Weasleys slowly departed. Ron and Harry climbed the rickety staircase to Ron's old room, which looked just the way he left it. Some things never changed.  
  
***************  
  
An hour later Ron was snoring peacefully in his bed, a satisfied look on his sleeping face. Harry glanced at his friend as he eased himself slowly off the bunk bed and down the ladder, wishing not to hurt him again but at the same time not baring the thought of causing more damage by waking him as he left.  
  
Harry walked softly over to the window, easing it open gently and looking down the side of the rickety old house to the ground below. There were enough twists and turns in the house that Harry was sure he'd be able to slide almost unharmed to the grass below. It was a crazy idea, but then again, Harry Potter often had such ideas. It'd be a lot easier with his wand, though.  
  
He was easing one foot out the window and onto a ledge when Ron gave a loud snore and sat bolt upright in bed.  
  
"Just where do you think you're off to?" he asked Harry angrily, grabbing his wand off his bedside table and pointing it at Harry. Harry rolled his eyes and pulled his leg back into the room.  
  
"Home, where I can't hurt anyone," Harry said simply. Ron's face was turning red, a sure sign that he was angry.  
  
"And just who gave you permission to decide what's safest for all of us? If we thought you were dangerous we'd have chucked you right back into that flu when you got into this house. In fact, I would never have invited you back!"  
  
"That's because you all don't know better, Ron!" Harry, too, was becoming angry. "I'm no good in the magical world, I cause trouble wherever I go! Ron, I KILLED people!"  
  
"You only fulfilled your prophecy, Harry, and we're all very glad that YOU were the one that survived! I don't think many of us would fancy living under Voldemort's rule right now!"  
  
"But what about Hermione, Ron?" Harry's voice was loud now, shaking with emotion.  
  
"Come OFF IT!" Ron shouted, touchy as always at the subject of Hermione. "IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT SHE DIED, I WAS THERE, I SAW IT! IT WAS HER OWN FAULT FOR BEING SO HEROIC!"  
  
"HEROIC! You see! She was trying to save my arse, I SHOULDN'T HAVE LET HER!"  
  
"YOU COULDN'T HAVE STOPPED HER, IT WAS NOT YOUR FAU-"  
  
An owl swooped suddenly through the open window, knocking over a lamp and startling Ron and Harry into silence. With a very scolding HOOT, it held out it's leg.  
  
Ron was too angry to move towards the owl, so Harry stepped forward frustratedly and yanked the note off of the owl. Hooting at him, it ruffled its feathers indignantly. Harry glared and unfolded the letter, which, he noticed, was addressed to both him and Ron.  
  
Harry read it once, twice, then looking up at Ron with less anger than before, said, "Here."  
  
Ron read:  
  
Dear Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter  
  
I'm glad to see that Harry made it safely to Ron's, and I should hope that he is planning to stay for a while. [Here Ron glared up at Harry, but Harry waved his hand at the letter and Ron continued to read.] In any case, I have a bit of information I'd like to share with the both of you. At your soonest possible convenience, preferably within the next few hours, I should very much like you to pay me a visit.  
  
Thank you,  
  
Dumbledore.  
  
Ron looked at Harry a long while, wondering just exactly what it was that Dumbledore wanted. He'd never received a letter from Dumbledore before, and he was right in assuming Harry hadn't, either. Recently, anyway.  
  
"What do you 'spose this is all about?" Ron asked, waving the note around for effect. Harry shrugged.  
  
"Got me."  
  
Another moment of silence passed as their anger lessened, then Harry asked, "Well, shall we?"  
  
"I don't see why not."  
  
Ron led the way down several flights of stairs to the Weasley's living room, where the fire was now nearly died out. All light that remained in the dark, shadow-filled room was glowing from the embers.  
  
With a flick of his wand, which Ron had carried downstairs with him, flames burst from the smoldering pile of logs, and Ron started towards the fire. He took a fistful of flu powder, and said clearly, "Dumbledore's Office."  
  
He was gone in a whoosh of pale green flame. Harry reached into the pot of flu powder beside the fireplace and imitated Ron.  
  
As he spun and twisted quickly through the flu system, Harry couldn't help but feel nervous at seeing Dumbledore again. True, Dumbledore was a wise wizard if there ever was one, but how had he known Harry'd returned? And what did he want to share with them that called for them to be at his office so early in the morning?  
  
With a thud, he landed in the middle of Dumbledore's huge fireplace. Ron was dusting himself off and approaching Dumbledore's desk, where the wise and very old wizard sat regarding his former pupils.  
  
For a moment Dumbledore simply looked at Harry, letting it sink in that the boy who lived, now the boy who conquered, had returned.  
  
"Welcome back, Harry," Dumbledore said softly. Despite the fact that Harry had previously been in a bad temperament, he grinned at his old headmaster and friend.  
  
"Hello, Professor."  
  
"Well, I'm glad the two of you could put aside your differences and join me this evening," Dumbledore said briskly, leaving Harry and Ron to stare at each other in wonderment. How had Dumbledore known they'd had a row?  
  
"I trust you'll find that it was a good decision, though a bit tiring that the hour is so late. However, I had to catch Harry before he made another mad dash to hide himself in the Muggle world. In any case, you're here now, and I've got a bit of information I'd like to share."  
  
Standing from his desk, he walked over to his shelves and pulled from between two books what seemed to be a very thin, flat mirror. Carrying it back to his desk, he beckoned to Harry and Ron. As they joined the headmaster, he took his wand from the desk and tapped the mirror thrice, saying, "Ministry of Magic, Voile de Deces, Department of Mysteries."  
  
Slowly, as though it were being etched into the mirror by an invisible hand, an image of the deepest room of the Department of Mysteries appeared. Hanging at the back of the room was a torn, shabby-looking curtain that hung limply from the ceiling. Harry's heart leapt, and without thinking, he backed away from the mirror.  
  
"What?" Ron looked curiously at his friend, who'd shut his eyes and turned away.  
  
"That's where he died," Harry said softly, the painful image that he'd relived in so many dreams, now drawn into the mirror's surface, burning a hole in his heart. He couldn't bare to look. "That's where Sirius died."  
  
Ron looked at the picture, which Dumbledore was holding firmly, and then back at Harry.  
  
"I'm sorry, mate," Ron apologized, taking another glance at the picture in the mirror. He'd been hexed that night, and much too giggly to notice when the fight turned ugly, and Sirius had fallen beyond the veil-  
  
"Harry, if you would care to join us again, you may find something I have to say quite comforting for that particular memory," Dumbledore said kindly.  
  
Harry returned slowly and extremely skeptically to the desk, though he was careful to keep his eyes from falling on the image again.  
  
"Though both of you have seen this before, you have not been properly introduced to it's name," Dumbledore began. "It is called 'le Voile de Deces,' French for the veil of death, or death's veil. It is the only known entrance to the afterworld."  
  
He let this sink in a moment. Harry had very reluctantly gazed at the mirror again, now noticing that it was much more detailed than when it had first appeared. The veil hung from an archway now, which looked innocent enough. But Harry knew what fate lay in store for those beyond the veil. He'd seen it happen to his godfather years and years ago.  
  
"A recent invention, developed by ministry wizards, has allowed a way into the veil that would eliminate any chances of dying in the process. They call it an Audela."  
  
Harry glanced at Ron, a thought dawning on him as Dumbledore spoke. He felt sure he knew why Dumbledore had invited them here tonight, and judging by the way Ron's eyes had lit up, he had too.  
  
"The Audela is a charm worn around one's neck, very similar to the Time-Turner that Miss Granger wore during her third year. The wearer will repel death as they enter the veil, though in no way will they be protected from harm once passed the entrance. It is believed to be a dangerous passage, due to the fact that exploration of it has been severely limited and it is not safe to assume otherwise.  
  
To give you a brief summary, just beyond the veil is a sort of whirlwind tunnel of silver light- which, if you look closely enough, you might see is actually a thousand swirling prophecies fulfilled by those who have now passed on. Through the silver mist you will find a rather complex maze of different worlds and the witches or wizards whose spirits have settled in them.  
  
"The Ministry has offered me a chance to give such a device a trial use; I, however, am much too old to take up the offer myself. I was thinking, then, that perhaps the two of you might like the chance."  
  
Harry and Ron regarded each other carefully. It was the exact chance they'd both been waiting for, to finally see again those whom they'd loved long ago. To Ron, it was Hermione and Charlie, who'd died in service to the Order of the Phoenix years ago. Harry's list was longer, more emotional; his parents, his godfather, Hermione, friends from the Order, Cedric, a hundred others. But there was one spirit he did NOT wish to encounter.  
  
"What about Voldemort?" Harry spoke his name as always, and for the first time in his life no one flinched at the name. Since Voldemort had been killed, it no longer seemed necessary to whisper his name, a threat to the peace. Instead it was now said with scorn and relief; relief that he'd gone on.  
  
"As I've already mentioned, the afterworld has yet to be thoroughly explored, and no one is quite sure where Voldemort is, or if he is capable of returning. Although I should mention, in comfort, that no one has yet been brought back successfully."  
  
"What do you mean- successfully? Have they tried?" Ron's thoughts, as they'd always been and always would be, were on Hermione.  
  
"Yes," Dumbledore regarded Ron evenly, calmly, knowing that what he said may very well upset his former student. But Ron had a right to know. "Their spirits were demolished, a chance at an afterlife over."  
  
"So- so where did they go?" Ron looked horrified at the thought. "Some other place?"  
  
"There is no other place besides beyond the veil. They are just - gone."  
  
Ron stared at the old headmaster, not wanting to believe what he'd just heard. He'd thought, for five wonderful, life-changing minutes, that he and Harry could retrieve Hermione from the place of no return. They could go back to being the three of them, just like things used to be. But now, if there was a chance that she could die yet again, this time at the hands of Ron and Harry, the two friends she had trusted most, then it wasn't worth it.  
  
But he'd at least get to see her again. The idea was so pleasing that it over-rode all others.  
  
With a quick glance at Harry to be sure his friend was thinking the same, Ron turned to Dumbledore with a determined look.  
  
"We'll do it."  
  
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A/N: hehe, I'm having fun writing this story! I hope it's being enjoyed, keep reading! I promise it won't be TOO emotional - but don't quote me on that! Anyways, be prepared, here's a list of people I'm considering they may meet: Maggie, Sirius, Lily, James, Heriome, Voldemort, Charlie, Neville, among others. Wanna know who Maggie is? Read the Girl with the Emerald Eyes! Review review review, thanks SO much to those who did!!  
  
Luv, Cassi~ 


	3. The Keeper of the Crossroads

THROUGH A SILVER MIST  
  
CHAPTER 3 - THE KEEPER OF THE CROSSROADS  
  
The last time Harry had seen Nymphadora Tonks she'd been pink-haired and very pale. It came as a surprise, then, when he, Ron, and Dumbledore met a woman with long red hair and freckles at the entrance to the Department of Mysteries as the sun came up that morning. Apparently she still enjoyed toying with her Metamorphmagus powers.  
  
"Harry!" Tonks walked quickly forward and gave Harry a hug, who blushed at Ron over Tonks's shoulder. Ron laughed.  
  
"About time you decided to come back," she said, and Harry could hear the energetic enthusiasm in her voice that had always been there. It was comforting to know she hadn't changed too much.  
  
Harry smiled as she pulled away and turned to Dumbledore, saying, "Well, it's a bit early in the morning to be setting off beyond the veil, but it won't make a difference once you enter. Everything's on it's own time schedule past the veil. We can't figure it out."  
  
Dumbledore smiled serenely and said, "That is all good and well, but I believe you are under the impression that I am going to assist Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley on their journey."  
  
"You-you're not?" A shadow of doubt crossed Tonks's face, but she quickly brightened up and said, "Oh well, Fudge will never notice anyway. These days he's too busy taking vacations to keep an eye on things. He'd probably feel better if someone assisted them, but there really isn't anyone to do it. Of course, I'd love to go with you two," she turned to Harry and Ron. "But I've got paperwork due. I'm supposed to be after this old death eater in Rome, but it seems pointless now that You-kno- er, that Voldemort is gone." As she said the dark lord's name, an expression crossed her face as though she'd swallowed a bug.  
  
"Okay," she said after a second or two, turning business-like and leading them into the Department of Mysteries with a muttered password and flick of her wand. As they stepped into the old circular room, the doorways spun around them in a whirl of shadows, so that they did not know which way was out. Harry's stomach dropped as he observed this; too well did he remember that night that he, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny and Luna had come to save Sirius. He was tempted to run for the way out, but he had no idea which direction it was. Tonks rolled her eyes.  
  
"All this secrecy stuff is so irritating," she said, pulling out her wand. "Department of Afterworld Studies."  
  
Immediately her wand swung around to face the door farthest north, and she grinned satisfactorily.  
  
"This way."  
  
She led them through the heavy wooden door, down a series of steps and finally onto the cold rock floor of a dais. Harry shuddered, stumbling several times as he fought the urge to turn around. He couldn't look at the room without instantly remembering the horrors of his fifth year- he'd fallen down those stairs, he'd seen Neville tortured with an unforgivable curse just over there, he'd almost surrendered his prophecy five feet that way- it was all quite traumatic.  
  
He looked up. There, in front of him, was the archway. The very same one he'd seen Sirius fall behind so many years ago, thinking for sure that his godfather would return, that he could pull back he curtain and see him walking back out-  
  
"Harry." Dumbledore put a hand on Harry's shoulder, and Tonks looked down at the ground. They'd been there too; they knew how Harry had reacted.  
  
Harry continued to stair at the limp, patched veil as Dumbledore said, "With luck, Harry, you shall see him quite soon."  
  
Ron who'd been watching from the background until now, stepped forward and said, "Well then, what are we waiting for? Tonks, have you got those - Owdeela things?"  
  
Tonks laughed and produced a small box from her pocket, saying, "It's 'Oh-Dell-Uh,' Ron, not 'owdeela.'"  
  
Opening the box carefully, she pulled two Audelas out by their thin silver cords. They resembled golden coins, like those that Pirates buried in Muggle stories, Harry thought, with the exception that they were glowing quite brightly.  
  
Tonks held them out as Ron and Harry reached for the warm, glowing coins. As Harry took his and saw it closer up, he noticed that a very difficult-looking spell was etched around the outsides of the golden metal, which was where the glowing was coming from.  
  
"I should warn you," Tonks said, as the boys slipped the silver cords over their heads and around their necks, "that those MUST stay on at all times. Tuck them behind your robes, or something, so that they don't catch on anything. If you were to lose it, you'll die instantly."  
  
Ron and Harry exchanged a nervous glance. Tonks smiled encouragingly at them.  
  
"Don't worry," she said. "Things will go just fine. And um-" she looked up at the door, grateful for the fact that it was so early, and no wizards were bustling about and giving them a hard time. "Be careful. The department isn't exactly aware that you're going through." She straightened up. "And tell Sirius I say hello, won't you?"  
  
"We will," Ron promised, noticing that Harry was looking quite pitiful again. He elbowed him in the side.  
  
"Hey, cheer up, mate," Ron said. "Nothing's going to go wrong."  
  
Harry looked at his friend and responded, "I hope not."  
  
"Ready?" Tonks asked, throwing another glance at the door. It wasn't that they weren't supposed to be in here, it was just that she wasn't entirely sure that Ron and Harry would be permitted to go. Best send them on their way before anyone could come in and question them.  
  
"Ready," Harry said, with a tone of finality in his voice. It was now or never. Ron grinned and said, "Wicked. Let's go."  
  
"Good luck," Tonks said, and she pulled Dumbledore towards the stairs, saying, "Best back away, in case the tunnel's particularly windy today."  
  
Taking a deep breath, Harry through another glance at Ron and determinedly pulled back the curtain. Together, they stepped inside.  
  
All at once their ears were filled with a noise loud beyond belief. It was whispering, shouting, moaning, wailing, grunting, a million voices all swirled together and surrounding them as they stood in what Harry knew from Dumbledore must be the Tunnel of Prophecies.  
  
Harry immediately felt a jolt at his body and found that his feet were not on any particular floor. He was floating, a fizzing feeling running through his veins as though he'd drunken too much pumpkin fizz, and he felt slightly sick from all the noise and moving shadows.  
  
A silver light hung in the air around them, swirling in a not-so- perfect archway and occasionally drifting across the path, like a mist. It was quite frightening and completely exhilarating at the same time. Neither Ron nor Harry knew quite what to do, for they were standing on nothing. There was no floor, yet it seemed that somewhere in the space below them was a walkway that they were drifting over. They couldn't very well float through the tunnel, for neither had any experience at it. So, for lack of anything better, Harry stepped forward.  
  
The fizzing feeling seemed to lessen as he glided softly forward, not quite walking and not quite drifting, as ghosts did. Ron looked startled, but followed Harry as he took another step through the mist.  
  
The millions of voices shouting, whispering, muttering seemed to close in on them, and as Harry walked he noticed that if he tried to pay attention, he could not catch a single syllable that made sense. But if he just sort of let his mind wander, he could make out occasional phrases or words. It was very enchanting, and the boys glided through the tunnel feeling sleepy and at peace. Harry supposed somewhere in the back of his mind that this may help those who'd just had the shock of dying. It was comforting to hear so many voices when he'd thought that death left people so utterly alone.  
  
It took three quarters of an hour for them to cross through the silver mist, for many prophecies had been made over the years and their subjects had passed on long ago. Harry was just thinking that he couldn't go on any farther when the mist began to thin, and they were abruptly deposited, as though they'd been dropped, on a black floor. The odd thing, Harry noticed, was that it wasn't so much of a floor as a big black space that they were hovering over.  
  
Looking around, Harry and Ron were at loss of where to go. By talk of the worlds that had gone on, Harry had imagined a big maze of rooms which held many people, all enjoying themselves in their own space. But instead all that Harry saw was dark, empty space. It wasn't so black as the floor, and it seemed to fade into a lighter color in the far distance.  
  
"Weird," Ron said, looking to the right and left of himself. "What do you suppose we're supposed to do?"  
  
"I'm not sure," Harry said, looking about, for a doorway, or an entrance arch. Anything to show them which way to go.  
  
"More ministry snoops, I see," a voice croaked from behind them. Harry and Ron jumped, turning to face the voice. Next to the end of the silver mist was a little old man that Harry found quite hard to see clearly. His face was blurred a bit as the mist drifted back and forth across him.  
  
"We- we aren't snooping," Ron said, somewhat indignantly. It sounded quite funny as he said it, however, because his voice cracked from nerves. "We're coming to visit an old friend."  
  
The old man regarded them quietly for some time from where he hovered cross-legged, as though searching them to be sure they weren't lying. Both Harry and Ron stood quite still, feeling as though if they moved then they would be deemed evil and sent back through the tunnel.  
  
"Who are you?" he asked them after some time. "Who have you come to see?"  
  
"I'm Harry Potter, and this is Ron Weasley," Harry said, looking at the man evenly. The man's eyes lit up at their names.  
  
"Ah, Potter? Yes, I've heard of you. You caused quite a stir here a few years ago, when you sent the dark lord on to the afterlife. Scared people, you did. Mind you, it was me who had to assure them that Voldemort could not touch them in their worlds. Quite a lot of extra hours that took, and a lot of being away from the tunnel. Don't know how many poor, confused souls I found drifting around here when I got back, must have been near a thousand."  
  
Harry turned quite red and muttered something to the effect of "sorry."  
  
"Excuse me," Ron spoke up, impatient to see Hermione and not liking how this man was taking his time to tell stories. Come to think of it, they had no idea who this guy was. "Do you mind telling us who you are?"  
  
"The Keeper of the Crossroads," the man said. "I direct those who've passed onto their next life. Doesn't really matter what my name is anyhow- people call me whatever they please. God. Allah. Old man." He chuckled.  
  
"Could you tell us how to get to our friends?"  
  
"Depends who you're looking for," the Keeper said. "And if I feel like allowing you to visit them." He gave them another searching look, as though he still didn't trust them.  
  
"We're looking for Hermione Granger," Ron said. "Well, to start with, anyway."  
  
"Ah, Ms. Granger," the Keeper nodded. "I remember everyone person who's ever crossed the Tunnel of Prophecies, and she sticks out quite a bit in my mind. Came in just before Voldemort, didn't she? She was very polite."  
  
There was a moment of awkward silence, then Ron asked, "Well, can we see her then?"  
  
The Keeper laughed quietly again. "I have a feeling you're here to see more than just Hermione Granger. It happened that way with those other ministry personnel who came through."  
  
It seemed like a good sign that the Keeper wasn't referring to them as snoops anymore.  
  
"Well, there are a few other people we'd like to see- if it's not too much trouble," Harry said, crossing his fingers in his robe pocket. The old man grinned. Then, clearing his throat, he stood and walked into the darkness. Unsure of whether or not to follow, Ron and Harry took a few steps after him, then stopped.  
  
"I hope you realize that I won't have you disrupting my people," the Keeper's voice boomed from somewhere up ahead. There was a small creaking noise. "You do and I'll make sure the whole lot of you ministry folk are barred out of here. For good, you got me?"  
  
Harry and Ron nodded, although they still could not see the man. As they stood in the darkness, they heard another creak and a slamming noise, and suddenly there was a shimmering doorway not ten feet off to the left.  
  
"Go through there," the Keeper said, emerging from beside the door. "Visiting only. No trying to transport anything back."  
  
Harry nodded, but Ron didn't seem too willing to comply with this last rule. Before he could make a scene, Harry grabbed his friend by the arm and led him towards the door.  
  
"Thank you-" Harry called to the Keeper, but he was too busy greeting the next batch of souls that'd come through the tunnel. Ron reached for the door handle and turned it. A tingling feeling overtook them as they passed through, and Harry threw a quick glance back over his shoulder.  
  
If he hadn't already had a foot through the door, which seemed to be pulling him in, he would have turned right around and run back to the keeper in shock- for Dumbledore, who had been very much alive not an hour ago when he'd spoken with Harry and Ron, was gliding serenely through the Tunnel of Prophecies.  
  
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A/N: I had to change that a little because I'd originally planned for Hermione to be the last person they met up with, but when I changed it to her being the first person and tried to write chapter four, it did NOT work! So look for Chapter four, which includes a character from The Girl with the Emerald Eyes, Sirius, and maybe a few other old friends!  
  
Luv, Cassi~ 


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